


Our Blonde Leader - a Ninja Sex Party 6969 AU Collection

by Vziii



Category: 6969 - Ninja Sex Party (Song), Ninja Sex Party - Fandom, Samurai Abstinence Patrol - Ninja Sex Party (Song)
Genre: Asexual Character, Except for Kristen cos I dunno what exactly she is, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Greyace chacracter, Homophobia, I promise this isn't homophobic, I'm gonna say she's greyace because shit happens I guess., Implied Sexual Content, It's actually kinda representative of asexuality really, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Someone dies sorry, To be fair there's a lot of death in NSP songs so well..., Why did I have to write all those relationships and characters on my own?, Why weren't they there before?, Y'all know the song(s).
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vziii/pseuds/Vziii
Summary: Hello and welcome to another 6969 AU. Today's episode: Kristen's perspective, since I barely see any of that around. Ready? Set... Go!





	1. Another Day of Routine

It was procedure at this point for Kristen to get coffee after work each night as it was to go to work. The only difference was that Kristen enjoyed her latte.

Barely anyone came into the coffee shop at 6 in the dark, neon-lit nights. Perhaps that was why Kristen liked this part of her daily schedule so much; she never quite liked seeing the same old people who cared more about their jobs than anything else. After all, she needed a boost after late shifts of work, and cinnamon latte always gave her the kick she never felt anywhere else nowadays. Her styrofoam cup of creamy brown liquid would be her companion for a ten-minute stroll back home, neatly fitting in her hand as her feet tapped upon the rough roadside and her mind would run at slow steady paces.

The same old song of the streets, vrooming chords of community buses and faint flickering percussion of the countless neon signs, would play as if the only tune on the jukebox. For some reason, she swore she could hear some sort of ping and boom behind, but it didn't quite bother her: building or bus breakdowns were beginning to be common. One can expect as such within a city littered with pothole puddles and chipped skyscrapers, decorated with anti-sex neon signs.

How she ended up like this, in the same old routine within such a lonely and dim city, it’d be the first question she’d ask once stepping out the coffee shop. She’s asked it to herself so many times, she could write a short story with its length. And so she had, reciting the tale in her head, more to the aim of answering the question than accompanying her quiet stroll.

Helena. The answer was always Helena. Beautiful, precious, underappreciated Helena with golden hair and beautiful blue eyes. The energetic elementary school best friend who always played with her during lunch, the confident middle school pal who helped fend off the bullies, and the loyal high school partner who’d give her care and support when Kristen would find herself falling. Helena, her first friend, her first confidant, and her first lover.

They were newly graduated teenagers with high school diplomas, taking the night to celebrate at the top of the school building. Watching over the city that raised them, counting and laughing at every fun event or misadventure from all those years… it seemed to create something new. Kristen had placed her hand upon her cheek, and Helena was the one who leaned in. Illegal as it may have been to touch one another in the first place, they couldn’t deny that the kiss felt magical. She remembered the sparks and warmth that remained in every stolen kiss they had during and after that night, a hint of cinnamon always upon Helena’s lips.

Perhaps that was why she always ordered extra cinnamon in her coffee; their usual serving couldn’t make the drink as sweet as her lost darling.

Somehow, the city had watched them as they held each other that night. Government officials came to them the next day with an offer of high-paying jobs, if they would come to the private buildings by the borders every day for work. ‘Physiology research,’ they had said, ‘to prevent further illegal intimate actions between citizens.’ Kristen had panicked that this was the consequence of finding their love upon the school building, and thus they had entered the government skyscraper the next week with hands intertwined.

Kristen did her best to list off as many details of her workspace in her head, tallying off the paint blots on the white walls and every bland fluorescent light upon the greying ceiling. She listened to the groan of the thin metal door she had to walk through to get to work each day, how oddly well maintained it remained avoiding rust. She had no problem picturing the long wall of black glass, slightly translucent to smudge the faces of the observing scientists on the other side, cameras upon experiments about sex drive and how far they can push its limits.

Somehow, the two ladies were being paid for showing them how they kissed, how they hugged. Recreating what happened that night had progressed to suggestions of feeling each other’s arms and combing their hands through each other's hair, activities documented in historical sources of ‘love,' which was advised against in their old health classes. Each whisper of sincerity was tallied and every caress of care was noted in detail, somehow making a bridge between salary earnings and increasing passion for the other beautiful lady.

Think of the city, they spoon-fed their reasons why they should continue with the 'research.' You're helping us discover more about the body, helping us find out what more we could do to prevent unlawful acts of lust and desire. They even showed them a few public service posters about abstinence and new pills to stop sex drive. Helena must've bought it, their manipulations, that she allowed herself to keep the job, even though she'd cry during work hours.

Somehow, the intimacy level between them wasn't enough for the researchers. Kristen considered if she had left the documents they gave them of ‘fornication’ from those two years ago in the government building, or if they were hiding in the tiny decaying apartment she was walking towards now. Clothing removal and such unsettling body positions between two people didn’t resonate well with Helena, and every tear that crept out her eyes added a new scar to Kristen’s heart. This job was killing her, as well as any relationships she had with Kristen or anyone else in this forsaken city, and she wouldn’t accept it.

Like every time she’s recited this story to herself before, Kristen wished there would’ve been another way to save Helena.

What else could she do then but talk to Helena after work one night, after grabbing two cups of warm coffee to bring back home into a less lonely apartment? What else could she have said to try to stop the tears flowing out her darling’s eyes? What else could she feel but guilt and regret that Helena’s suffering was her fault somehow, that she had to make up for it by being her shield, just like Helena was for her for all those years before?

But Kristen wasn’t in the mood for pointless contemplation over spilled milk tonight. She was tired enough from work, with the strange new men above her and any words she should have said inside her.

She never really spoke in the government offices again, because… well, she didn’t have chances like she did when Helena was still around. Oh, how they demanded that Kristen keep her mouth shut and her fingers where neither she or Helena wanted them to be. But she had had enough that day, standing up from the provided bed and throwing clothes at her darling's vulnerable body, encouraging her to dress herself again. She remembers screaming to anyone behind the black glass that this was enough, that they were hypocrites. She must have said something about how using their genuine romance as an excuse for their abstinence research for masturbating for money, or perhaps how much Helena wasn't deserving of their maliciousness.

But she will remember Helena’s scream. It rang louder than the community buses passing from behind her, never losing its tragedy no matter how many times it plays in her head again. Black-clothed men in smooth helmets had barged in from that same metal door the two women were trapped behind every workday, dragged Kristen’s sweetheart out with them, leaving her alone with the clothes that were meant to be on the captive.

Stepping into a small pothole puddle pulled her from falling further down the memory, having Kristen take a breath and ground herself by looking around. The same high billboard with a message about never revealing the skin upon the torso glared down at her, the neon lights blinding the city a little less intensely now. Five minutes more of walking home, she calculated quickly with her location.

She kept walking, less spring in her step now, as if she's had any left after the incident those two years back.

Here she is now and here she'll stay, Kristen pitied herself. Bleached hair a blonde shade dirtier than Helena’s, a heart that wouldn’t find any satisfaction. Accompanied by a dirty job of naked men against her skin whilst sadistic scientists watched in glee. She'd laugh with them if she could remember how to smile.

All the wishing Helena was here, hoping a rocket could whisk her away, it was quite foolish of her.

But the music of the street started to change. A tempo of snare and chords of electricity replaced the lazy buzz of neon signs, warm purple-blue shades chased the bland white blare of the roadside. Kristen looked up in surprise and curiosity, thinking maybe the one responsible was a god above the skies. Maybe they heard her tale, her hopeless plea, and was making a change for this forsaken place and age.

And the man she saw in the sky, sparkling in a blue bodysuit and glitter cape, was surreal enough to be her miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, so I'm personally registering myself demi-panromantic asexual, and I tried representing that in Helena. Then uh... I don't really know how to describe Kristen's alignment. Not sure if I wrote either lady right, but yeah.
> 
> I know. I know y'all are gonna be giving me Helena comments. Bring it.


	2. What Came Next

It had been only days since the mighty Ninja Sex Party had departed their great renowned city, but its members wasted no time establishing its new democracy. Now with freedoms to touch and love another, the new willful leader Kristen was sure to not lose them anytime soon.

Some say the revolution turned to an evolution for the citizens of Earth. Unfortunately, there were fossils to collect.

What was once a large, cylindrical, authoritarian building now was just crumbled cement, a surviving museum of the old world. Wishing to retrieve the information kept from them for so long, the citizens voted to scavenge and investigate the place. And so, on this fine autumn day, Kristen, accompanied by a handful of volunteers, began to step through heaps of rubble where the Dick Elders’ Council office once stood, her golden blonde hair having her stand out from the others cleaning up the ruin. Gloves in hand and backpacks filled with Ziplock bags, the team began picking at crumbled rocks and cement blocks, hoping to find some sort of documentation of the past institution.

Pieces of dusty chipped marble hinted the Dick Elders’ Council podium, its faint glow from the light’s reflection catching Kristen’s eyes. Mindfully walking towards, her light grey sneakers stepping away from any sharp stones on her improvised ‘path.’ When she had made it close enough to the remains of the table where the Elders would sit and commune, she wasn’t quite prepared for such a surprise.  
  
Right there under the chunks of chipped marble and cement, disassembled stacks of yellow manila folders were right before Kristen’s eyes. Inside each one, an odd collection of files was packed neatly. Kristen scanned through each one slowly, fortunate that no one disturbed her study.

One of them was a map of Ninja Town, like she remembered in history class, a land that was somehow lead to corruption for reasons she forgot, only that an odd name ‘Europe’ was crossed out. Another had a few pages ripped from a ring notebook diary, each of them filled with records of the number of people killed each day, summing up to around 300 deaths throughout the papers.

More and more folders were scanned through, each one containing fascinations of the history the Elders never even hinted at before. Countless prints of photographs were tucked in multiple other folders, showing Kristen’s heroes Danny and Ninja Brian in what she could presume their world. Places in said images ranged from an Attitude City and their concerts in a New Jersey, typically showing the duo on either high-speed adventures or with ladies in bright-colored underwear. Along with them were more sparse documents: advertisements for sex training, a legend of a beast called a manticore, news articles of Ninja Sex Party hijinks of homicides and public disturbances…

Out of all these folders, one truly pursued Kristen’s curiosity. She remembered Danny in blue shimmering spandex, but she couldn’t recall a grey-haired man with scars on his face. His long-sleeved black shirt and pants seemed familiar, however, hinting The only other person Kristen could associate Sexbang with was a man in a black ski mask and… Was this man kissing Danny the man underneath the black cotton mask?

… did they… were they both…

Kristen pushed that thought aside and fumbled to look into one more folder. It wasn’t like she understood the aspect of love and affection yet.

The bottom and final folder, oddly, contained only one document: a rough parchment folded once or twice to fit into its folder. When unfolded, Kristen presumed the vintage paper was once a scroll, as it seemed to curl up at its ends. In a slight mess of a cursive penmanship, the following text almost put everything together for her.

> **_To My Descendants:_ **
> 
> _If this is to be read, I pray that the Samurai Abstinence Patrol is victorious in your history. I pray the sinful Ninja Sex Party hasn’t infiltrated your mind or altered the earth’s culture of divinity._
> 
> _If so, please keep this in mind: Ninja Sex Party preaches of instinctive displays of emotion without consequences._
> 
> _Not a lick of morality can be found within said ‘band.’ Living their own lives with no self control of murderous intent or sexual desire is one conflict, yet advocating it be the way for all is simply inhumane._
> 
> _Not to mention, they had depended upon their instincts so much they’ve went against their own moral. It seemed they have declared unlawful lust, or according to them ‘romantic feelings,’ for each other. Two men in unholy affair, kisses or none, can’t possibly bring anything beneficial to this planet or timeline._
> 
> _The way to true happiness, I hope they know, is not simply from a life full of pleasure. It is derived from restraints from the unlawful deeds, control of the childish impulses, abstinence from the world’s cheap temptations. You find it in a meal with more vegetables when you’re on a diet, on a day you complete work before letting yourself play a game with friends, on the night of your wedding with a humble person or opposite sex to complete your duty as a father or mother._
> 
> _And so, in this will of mine, I regret that I can leave nothing further than an aspiration: a purified world. A union where all are well-disciplined and fueled upon morals, where they are truly happy. Perhaps a world with no temptation of pricey materials of premarital sex, or any need for intercourse, will be best for this. I pray that this aspiration of mine, this hope for a nation free of animalistic impulse, will be the world’s mutual goal._
> 
> _Dear reader of the future, may the path you and your brethren traveled be pure and lawful, and may the irk of Ninja Sex Paety be far from you. Know that instincts of desire and joy are not to be trusted. Have your head rule over your chest and loins. If you find that these lusts are too strong, run to the illusion of marriage, and find yourself a disgrace to our Patrol and name._
> 
> _\- Arin Neverbone, Samurai Abstinence Patrol Founder and Leader_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wrote this first for a Secret Santa thing. It's over here if you wanna find it. http://polygrumpssecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/168932536014/what-came-next


End file.
